


How?

by Simple_Ram (orphan_account)



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, If you ship choicest don’t touch, Meantion of drugs: warning, Vauge spoilers in the notes nothing huge, after secret endings, in the hospital
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-01
Updated: 2018-02-01
Packaged: 2019-03-12 10:48:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13545777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Simple_Ram
Summary: Saeran has fears very personal to him.





	How?

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this a while ago but never posted it: please enjoy! 
> 
> I actaully have a reason for posting it but it has to do with the Ray Route so please just scroll past this if you don’t wanna see anything. It’s super vauge. 
> 
>  
> 
> Start spoilers
> 
>  
> 
> ***  
> ***  
> I thought that they brushed over his mental illness and trauma too fast and it was as if a person who doesn’t know much about mental illness was explaining to someone who didn’t know what mental illness was and that person had to write it. All together pretty bad  
> ***  
> ***
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> End spoilers please enjoy

Saeran lay in the hospital room, his eyes glazing over as he listened to his brother talk with the nurse. They talked often about Saerans “behavior issue” and “bad health habits”. Of course he wasn’t going to eat or let them connect him to anything. What would happen? Saeyoung nodded and smiled at the lady and thanked her, and politely but firmly refused them to force any treatment on Saeran. They talked on and on and on about what would be the effects of all of his problems. On top of his, what the nurse had said, was depression, anxiety, most likely some other mental illnesses, having bad immune system and being underweight, was his lovely drug addiction. Which would cause him to be sicker. That was true, he got bad stomach cramps and was very nauseous and shaky. 

His brother walked back over to his chair beside the bed, “Have you been eating? Did you have breakfast?”

Saeran groaned. “I don’t wanna eat.”

“Saeran, please.” The pleading. Oh, how he could live without this.

“I’m not letting them make me food and I'm not letting them shove drugs in me or put things in me through tubes! You said today you weren’t gonna argue with me, so go through with one statement in your life!”

“It will help you-”

“I don’t know them, how will they help me? How?”  
“Saeran, they are trained professionals.”  
Saeran wanted to scream. Who gives a fuck if they are trained professionals, it didn’t matter. What were they going to give him?

“I. Don’t. Care. I don’t know them.” 

 

“Saeran…” 

This time Saeran did scream. It wasn’t anything coherent, he wasn’t even sure what he was saying. He didn’t want his brother to know he was scared. He was scared the doctors were doing something. He was scared they were going to hurt him. He was scared they were going to sneak drugs into him, and why wouldn’t they Why not? What did Saeran ever do right to have something good happen to him? What if Saeyoung did something? What would he do then? What would the doctors do, what would Saeyoung do?  
Saeran was scared but not even God would know.  
He was screaming and shaking when the tears started to fall. Shit, shit, shit. Saeyoung's face contorted. He looked so pained. Saeran stopped and wiped his eyes. 

“Please,” Saeran croaked, “just don't let them give me or I’ll-“ 

Saeyoung leaned back in his chair. He sighed and looked at Saeran once more. Saeran was still wiping his eyes furiously, trying to make the tears go away. He wanted to throw up. 

“It's your decision, Saeran.” Saeyoung said pulling out his DS. 

“I know and I'll live with it.” He wanted to be alone. His head was hurting and so was his stomach. “But you have no say in what I do now.” 

Saeran didn't want drugs or something in his food, he didn't want them in his body, not again . They would do something to him.


End file.
